


Just Us

by marshv



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Crossdressing, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 19:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16838737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshv/pseuds/marshv
Summary: Tags do not apply to all chapters. Just want to get this archived in the wake of tumblr effectively nuking itself.1. Hurt/Comfort - Junkrat has flashbacks of a past relationship2. Humor/Fluff - Roadhog and Junkrat find an interesting haul in a mansion they break into3. Roadhog fluff - Roadhog looks back on his life and the life he has now at Overwatch





	1. I'm Ok

**Author's Note:**

> Some requests from junkrathell@tumblr that I never posted here.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If this is too heavy/triggering of a subject feel free to ignore but what about junkrat who has a past of being sexually abused (whether it's childhood/past relationship/etc. is up to you) and something triggers the memory and he ends up breaking down in front of roadhog. and once roadie understands, he just holds him and comforts him. Assuring him he's safe and all that. Again, if your not comfortable with this feel free to ignore._
> 
> I mulled over this for a while and I’m still not too happy with it but hopefully it’s alright. Nothing explicit, though it’s pretty obvious what’s implied.
> 
> **Lots of past verbal/sexual abuse in this one fyi.**

“Shut up and open your mouth.” **  
**

One of his gold teeth had been killing him. He’d whined about it, nonstop, for almost an entire week. Roadhog, finally fed up with the complaining, decided to take matters into his own hands, uttering the short phrase and not thinking a thing of it.

Why would he?

It wasn’t like he knew. There wasn’t anything malicious about the way it was said. Hog told him to shut up all the time. Big deal.

Shut up and open your mouth.

Junkrat’s throat tightened, choking on nothing and gasping. The words repeated in his mind, over and over until his tongue swelled and he couldn’t speak. He was up against the wall, shaking, eyes wide and a million miles away, chest burdened with a horrible pressure like he’d been kicked in the sternum. Roadhog was gone. Or at least, he couldn’t see him anywhere. He couldn’t really see anything. The scene shifted around him, warping from something warm and safe, into a place dark and familiar that wormed its tendrils into his brain and poisoned him.

_Just open your mouth, love, it’s all you’re good for._

Bad memories. Not good. They hid inside the recesses of his thoughts, covered up by the passage of time. But it hadn’t been long enough for them to be buried completely. They still picked at him, nagged at him, and reminded him of what a fucking joke he was, and his eyes screwed shut to chase them away.

_This is the only time you should ever have your mouth open._

He met Vic when he had just turned eighteen, still young and incredibly impressionable. Vic was short. But when you were six and a half feet tall, everyone was shorter than you. He came up to about his shoulder. Dark hair, sickly pale skin, and a bulbous nose, he wasn’t much to look at. But that wasn’t why Junkrat liked him.

_Just you and me._

He was smart. He was suave and good at talking and used sugary words to take whatever he wanted. Well off, well fed, and well educated, he was everything Junkrat wasn’t. He was out of his league, but that didn’t stop him from swooning over him, following him around like a lost puppy for almost two years.

_You’re here for one reason and it’s not your brain, ya useless cunt._

He flinched, heart racing. He was worthless. No skills or talents, nothing to offer. But he was tall and intimidating. That’s why Vic kept him around. Then it all changed, and the insults started. Junkrat wasn’t a stranger to those. But it got worse. And he could remember the first time it happened, curling up on his side feeling cold in the sweltering heat of the Outback.

_No one wants you anymore. Just listen to what I say, you’ve got a purpose here, mate._

His fingers ripped at his hair and pulled. He couldn’t breathe. Clenching his teeth, already painful, but he couldn’t stop. The room was so blurry. Lights flickered over his head and burned his eyes. Wet drops of something hit his knees. It was jarring, unusual, and jerked his mind awake until he realized he was crying. In the room he and Hog shared.

The bones of his spine were pressed into the wall where he folded in on himself. Roadhog was crouched in front of him, his mask was off—had it been off before?—and was looking at him with calm concern. His hand was out like he wanted to touch him, and Junkrat grabbed it and held it to his face, grateful, cheek nuzzling into the much larger hand.

“You’re safe here,” he spoke soft and slow, stroking Junkrat’s cheek with a tentative touch. “Whatever happened, I’ll protect you now. Remember?”

He wasn’t even in Australia anymore. They were far away. Hog was here and he was touching him without flinching at the feel of his skin. Junkrat nodded against his hand, the tears on his cheeks smearing dirt over his face. It was nice here. Things were cleaner and he had lots of food.

“This place is a fortress. No one can get in here.”

He nodded again. No one could get to him while he was with Overwatch. He was safe here. Trembling, he shifted closer to Roadhog, who rubbed his back and surrounded him with his arms.

His tooth still hurt.

“Hog?” he mumbled.

“Hm?”

“Don’t ever tell me to open my mouth.”

Roadhog was silent for a moment. But his arms stayed put, his hand on his cheek, and he shuffled closer.

“Ok. But can I look at your tooth?”

Junkrat shrugged, letting go of Hog’s hand to drop to his lap where he clutched at the fingers.

“Sure.”

And he opened his mouth.


	2. Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _BRO you should write something about junkrat in a dress sometime, that'd be really good._
> 
> That is an EXCELLENT request. Here’s Junkrat finding some pretty dresses and being very excited.

Though the chateau had been abandoned for several years, the security systems were still up and running. As a result, the huge mansion was largely intact, save for a few shattered windows. **  
**

Breaking in had been a cinch for them, it usually was, and inside was a treasure trove—old family heirlooms, paintings, fancy silverware and artifacts—but Junkrat ignored all of them, and made a beeline for the master bedroom closet instead.

 _That’s where they always hide the best stuff in these places_ , he’d said.

Since they weren’t in any particular hurry, Roadhog didn’t argue, and meandered around the bedroom looking at the photographs on the dresser, keeping an eye out for any small valuables that might have been lying around.

“Hey, Hog! Look at this!”

He turned his attention to the doorway of the walk in closet.

“How much ya think somethin’ like this ‘s worth?”

Junkrat had his back to the door jam, body arched, right hand draped dramatically over his forehead, decked out in a very long, very intricate evening gown that created a sleek silhouette down his lanky body. He looked like a very strange runway model, his baggy shorts still visible under the delicate fabric where he hadn’t bothered to take them off.

“A dress.” Roadhog stated, not judging but simply taking in the sight. It wasn’t surprising in the slightest, all things considered, Junkrat being as far from conventional as he was. He was just shocked it actually managed to reach the floor on him.

“Imagine what you could smuggle in this thing! Dress me up pretty an’ I could get through any security check anywhere. No one would suspect a richy in a fancy dress.” he twirled a few times and lifted up the bottom, overjoyed by the long length. “Or we could just sell it! Look at all these in here! I bet they’re some ones worth thousands! That’s what these rich ladies like to wear, right? We could sell ‘em for a fraction and make a fortune!”

Roadhog hummed. He was right. Not about smuggling bombs under it, the idiot. But they were in all likelihood worth a substantial sum of money.

Junkrat, still in the dress, dug through the closet, eventually pulling out an armful of huge fluffy gowns and dropping them all on the bed. He tripped forward when he set them down, peg leg getting caught in the flowing layers, and fell face first into the pile of chiffon and silk. It was a miracle nothing ripped.

“Ohhhh look at these,” he whispered. He hadn’t bothered to get up and ran both hands lovingly over his newest treasures. “So soft and shiny. Look! This one’s got jewels on it!”

Junkrat gently stroked along the bodice and marveled at it. He’d seen dresses, always thought they were nice and practical, but he’d never seen any like this.

By now Roadhog had resigned to sitting on an ottoman while Junkrat enjoyed himself, pulling out a book and grunting encouragement whenever he made another delighted screech. This had happened before with other unusual things they’d found. And Roadhog knew the outcome would be the same.

They weren’t going to sell the dresses.


	3. Insights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _having a bad night. could you write something sweet with roadhog? i just want my pig boy to be happy._
> 
> Aw jeez I’m sorry you’re having a bad night. :( I tried to keep this pretty general so I didn’t really do anything shippy. I hope you feel better <3

Looking back, Roadhog realized things were never quite as bad as they seemed to be. That was usually the case though. In retrospect, things were never that bad. Of course, while they were still happening, they had been impossible to deal with. However, in his defense, having your home of almost fifty years get disintegrated into nothing overnight was something no one could be prepared for.

But it’s not like he died. He wasn’t horribly, permanently injured. He still had food and there were still doctors and yeah sure, some of them had died and some became a little loopy from the radiation, but he was never bored at least. He had a place to stay and he was never afraid or in imminent danger. Friends and connections came much faster than they ever had before the downfall of society.

And after the bulk of all of it, he’d ended up with the kid. This ratty, dirty, skinny kid who was too smart for his own good and knew way too much to survive on his own. So he kept him safe, formed a bond that became harder and harder to deny the longer it went on. Hell, he even made enough money for himself to stay in luxury for the rest of his life.

He never did find out how the kid got as rich as he did. Something about treasure? Whatever that meant. Probably slang he wasn’t familiar with. Could have been a world class drug lord for all he knew. Or maybe he was just exceptionally proficient at stealing. Damn kid.

It wasn’t meant to last. But he’d known that when they started. And they ended up at Overwatch, where they were now. He still thought it was weird that an organization previously associated with the United Nations would want anything to do with two Australian criminals. Then he realized that was probably just them covering their asses after the omnium exploded. Frankly, he didn’t care enough to find out. Just accepted the free housing and medical care in exchange for some mercenary work.

He sat there now, more content that he had been in years. Junkrat was next to him, the kid rarely left his side, quiet as a church mouse as he slept resting against his massive shoulder. Angela was reading a book, occasionally smiling at the words. Tracer and Hana giggled at something as they played cards, Jack commenting every now and again while they shushed away his fatherly lectures.

The others came and left the room, sometimes staying, sometimes leaving quickly. But every time, they greeted him like a friend would, like they’d known him for years. With smiles and hellos and playful teasing. And sometimes he’d say hi back. Other times he’d just lift a hand and wave. But no matter what, beneath his mask, invisible to everyone and undetectable, he would smile. A genuine one. And despite everything he’d been through, despite how vividly the memories seated in his brain, the hospitality and family he had made here, totally by chance, reminded him in every passing moment that things would be ok.

He would be ok.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m on [twitter](http://twitter.com/jmarshv)


End file.
